This movie is a companion piece to Jane B. par Agnès V — Birkin talks about a script she’s for a short film she’s written, and Varda says that they should expand it into a full film. Et voila. But the kids in this movie are played by Birkin’s and Varda’s real children, and it’s filmed in Birkin’s house, so while this is a fictional narrative, it a bit blurry at the edges…

Birkin explained in the previous movie what this is about — Birkin’s character gets the hots for a 14 year old boy, and tragedy ensues. So it’s kinda creepy, but… having Varda’s child play the boy makes it even more creepy? I think?

I think that’s Birkin’s real parents?

And then the movie takes a really bizarre turn — Birkin’s character’s mother tells her to take the boy to a remote island!?

OK, perhaps this is supposed to be a fantasy sequence…

It’s a good movie… and Varda foregrounds all the problematic things about a story like this — she doesn’t try to make it reasonable. The performances are good, it looks great, but there’s still something not quite gripping about it all.

Kung-fu master!. Agnès Varda. 1988. ⚃

Hey! Jane Birkin is a great actor.

This is a weird movie, and I like it.

Does Jane Birkin have a Birkin bag!?

It’s a kind of documentary movie — it’s a portrait of Jane Birkin, but we get fictional interludes and stuff. It’s got a nice flow.

That’s a nice kitchen.

The movie is kinda entrancing, but some of the tableaux are pretty… lame. I mean, everything looks so great, but we get a lot of these mini-dramas that aren’t that interesting. Semi-improvised, perhaps?

It’s really good. It’s got a kind of stream of consciousness flow, and is edited together incredibly well.

Jane B. par Agnès V. Agnès Varda. 1988. ⚄

I guess this is a pre-code movie? It seems uncensored.

But this is fantastic. It’s really melancholic. And no swelling orchestration, which is unusual for 1932.

That’s a nice set.

Is that a real dog?

Very Lynch.

It’s quite a strange movie.

The first fifteen minutes were ingenious, but now the tensions has kinda dissipated — it’s basically just going to be about this drunk who’s marrying this woman? And it’s about him being a drunk?

That’s no fun.

No! Now she’s starting to drink, too! They’re both going merrily to hell! Except for them both being depressed and not merry!

He said the line.

Hey! It’s Cary Grant! In a very small role.

Wise words.

Well… this started so well, and then it’s just kinda boring.

But all the critics like it, so don’t mind me.

Merrily We Go To Hell. Dorothy Arzner. 1932. ⚂